Текст книги "Dark Desire"

Автор книги: Christine Feehan

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Текущая страница: 22 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

“She will become one of us after your death. Her blood is Maggie’s blood, and she belongs to me. You had no right to her.”

“And you believe that you can defeat me in battle?” Jacques’ head was up, the demon in him struggling for freedom, wanting the joy and thrill of the fight. Hatred rose for this man who had destroyed his innocence, his family, his memories, his beliefs. Savage hatred for this man who had created a dark, dangerous being in the place of a gentle Carpathian rose and began to spread like a dark stain across his soul.

“You will defeat yourself, dark one. Your woman is tied to me. When you strike me, she will feel the pain. Every slash, every cut, it will be the woman who bleeds, not just me. She will also feel your joy in the act. She will know you for what you are, and she will know your need to inflict pain and death. She will finally see you as the monster you really are. She will see you kill her father, see your joy in the act, and she will feel each blow.”

Pain exploded in the region of Jacques’ temples as he desperately tried to remember if what the vampire was saying could be so. Would Shea feel pain inflicted upon Rand? Was her father’s blood in her veins sufficient to cause such a thing? He needed the answer immediately. Rand had him backed into a corner with this revelation.

Before Jacques could send off an inquiry and resolve the dilemma, the vampire launched himself, moving with supernatural speed, a blur of claws going for the jugular. Jacques leapt out of the way, felt the burn across his throat as the tips of Rand’s nails caught him and opened a shallow cut. Jacques retaliated without conscious thought, raking his own talons down the vampire’s face.

Rand screamed with pain, a cry of fear and hatred. Jacques kept at him, whirling in and out of visibility, inflicting lacerations across the vampire’s chest to drain him of his strength. He kept his mind firmly from Shea’s. He could not think she was in danger, that this savage fight could somehow affect her. The joy in him increased until his mind and body were alive with power. The vampire fell back under his onslaught. With one last desperate attempt to turn the battle in his favor, Rand disappeared, fled to the tree line, calling on the sky to do his bidding.

A bolt of lightning slammed to earth, scorching the area close to Jacques’ body, singeing the tips of his hair. A second bolt hit the precise spot where the Carpathian had been standing, but Jacques was already overhead, high in the trees above Rand. Wings beat the air strongly as he launched himself.

Rand screamed as the razor-sharp talons ripped into his chest, sought his pulsating heart. “Shea! Hear me! Join with me! Save me now! I am your father! You must join with me to save me from this monster tearing insanely at my flesh!”

Jacques reached for the organ, tore it free, and flung it far from the vampire. “You are dead, vampire, and you go, I hope, to some semblance of peace. The crimes you have committed against me and my family are avenged. You go to meet your God and his mercy. I feel none toward you. You would have taken her with you had you been able to do so. Carpathian justice has been dispensed.”

Rand staggered forward, his gray face slack, tainted blood flowing freely. His mouth working convulsively, he fell to his knees. Jacques leapt back from the thrashing body, careful that the grasping claws did not touch him, that not one speck of the dark blood splattered on him. His hand was burning as he wiped it clean in the shriveling grass.

The air around them stilled, the wind completely silent. The earth seemed to groan. An eerie steam rose from the wriggling body, mixed with a noxious odor. Jacques instinctively moved farther away from the spectacle. Vampires died hard; all fought to overcome death with every trick they had. The tainted blood trickled across the ground toward Jacques’ boots, guided by the dying vampire’s last evil thoughts. Jacques watched without emotion as the vampire crawled toward him, inched his way closer and closer, his face twisted with depravity, with hatred.

Jacques shook his head. “You hated yourself, Rand. You hated yourself all these years. All of you had to do was find the courage to follow her. Maggie would have saved your soul.”

Low, pitiful growls escaped from the hideous mouth, blood spewed forth, and Rand collapsed in front of Jacques, still reaching for him, still determined in his last moment to kill.

Jacques inhaled sharply, caught his first whiff of fresh, clean air, and knew the vampire had fully expired. With a little sigh he carried the bodies of the hunters to an open area and carefully collected what dry branches he could find. There could be no evidence left of this night. The vampire, too, had to be completely consumed by the fire so that there was no chance the tainted blood could find a way to revive him. The power of the vampire’s blood was incredible.

Weakness was becoming an increasing concern for Jacques. The fight had used up his last energies, and he still had to create and maintain a huge conflagration in the midst of a rain-soaked forest.

The wolf howled again, this time much closer, obviously loping toward the scene of death and destruction, perhaps drawn by the smell of blood. Jacques scored the earth with a lightning bolt, directing it along the river of blood. No creature needed the madness of that fluid in its belly.

An unusually large, rare, golden wolf trotted out of the timberline, circled the area warily, and sat down on its haunches only feet from Jacques. It watched him steadily with its strange golden eyes, completely unafraid. It seemed not to be affected by the fire, the lightning, or the Carpathian male. Jacques watched the animal equally intently, certain he was facing more than a wolf. The creature did not make an attempt to use the common mental path to communicate. It simply watched him, taking in the bizarre scene, the golden eyes never wavering.

A humorless smile curved Jacques’ hard mouth. “If you are looking for action tonight, I am too tired to oblige you, and far too hungry.”

The wolf’s shape contorted, stretched, shimmered in the smoke of the fire, and soon a large, heavily muscled man was facing Jacques. His long, shaggy mane of hair was blond, his eyes golden, his body perfectly balanced. “You are Jacques, brother to Mikhail. I heard you were dead.”

“That is the story going around,” Jacques assented warily.

“You have no memory of me? I am Julian, brother to Aidan. I have been away these last long years. The far-off mountains, the places without people, are my home.”

“The last I heard, you were fighting wars in distant lands.”

“When the mood is upon me, I fight where it is needed,” Julian agreed. “I see you do also. The vampire lies dead, and you are pale beyond imagination.”

Jacques’ smile was grim. “Do not allow my color to fool you.”

“I am no vampire yet, and if ever I fear turning, I will go to Aidan, and he will destroy me if I cannot do so myself. If you wish to take blood, then I offer it freely. The healer knows me; you can ask him if I am a reliable resource.” There was the slightest of smiles, a self-mocking humor.

“What are you doing in these parts?” Jacques asked suspiciously.

“I was traveling through, on my way to the United States, when I heard the butchers were back, and I thought I would make myself useful to our people for a change.”

Jacques found himself admiring Julian’s answers. This was a man not in the least worried about anyone’s opinion or impression of him. He was self-contained, at ease with himself. It didn’t bother him at all that Jacques was suspicious, that he was firing questions at him.

Healer, hear me. I have need of blood, and this one before me, Julian, the golden twin, has said you will vouch for him.

No one can vouch for one such as Julian. He is a loner, a law unto himself, but his blood is untainted. If Julian turns, it will be Aidan or I who hunts him, no others. Avail yourself of what he offers.

“Did he give me a good recommendation?” Julian’s smile was frankly sardonic.

“The healer never gives good recommendation. You are not his favorite, but he agrees there would be no harm.”

Julian laughed softly, put his wrist to his mouth and bit, then casually reached out to offer his life-giving fluid to Jacques. “I am too much like him, a loner, one who studies too much. I dabble in things better left alone. I fear Gregori has given up on me.” He didn’t sound worried about it.

Jacques nearly staggered as he moved to take the proffered wrist. His mouth clamped tightly over the ragged wound. The blood flowed into Jacques’ withered, shrunken cells. The surge of strength and power was incredible. He had not realized how depleted his system was until the nourishment flowed into his body. It was an effort not to be greedy, to feast at the rich supply.

“Do not worry, I have no duties to perform this night. Take what you need, and I will hunt in town before moving on.” Julian made the offer casually.

Jacques forced himself away from the flowing supply. He closed the wound carefully and looked up at the handsome, weathered face. There was intelligence there, coolness, self-possession, and something else. Jacques could read the dangerous stillness in him. Julian was a man always ready for the unexpected.

“Thank you, Julian. If you ever have need, I expect to return the favor,” Jacques said sincerely.

“I will finish up here,” Julian offered. “It is a shame these three men had to die this night. When they do not return and no search party can find their remains, it will only feed the legends of vampires stalking this country and these parts.”

“I should have expected Rand to use them against me; he knew I would keep them to feed.” Jacques regretted their deaths bitterly.

“You did not kill these men, the vampire did. And you rid the world of one of our monsters. Both humans and Carpathians are indebted to you. Think only of that, Jacques. I wish you good journey and long life.”

“Good journey and long life to you, Julian,” Jacques answered formally.

Chapter Eighteen

Jacques entered the maze of tunnels, his body moving with supernatural speed. He could hear every sound, the water dripping, then roaring, the high squeak of the bats, even the slight shifting of the earth itself. But he could not detect what he wished to hear most. There was no sound coming from the pools. No ripple of water, no humming, no soft breath from sleeping. No heart beating.

Shea was lying motionless on a rock when Jacques entered the steamy underground chamber. He stood very still in the entrance, afraid to move or speak. She had not responded to his telepathic call to her. If she were lost to him, the monster that was Rand would win after all. No one would ever be safe again until Jacques was destroyed. He shook his head. No, if she were dead, he would not leave her to face the unknown without him. Rand would not win. Jacques would follow her, find her. They would spend their life in the next world together.

He cleared his throat carefully, noisily, wanting her to turn to face him. She didn’t move, her body utterly still. Jacques inhaled sharply and caught the faint scent of blood. He cleared the distance between them in a single leap, his speed so great, he was almost unable to stop before plunging headlong into the pool. As it was, he teetered precariously on the rim of the boulder before regaining his balance.

There was blood smeared on the rock beside Shea’s naked body, a faint crimson ribbon over her breasts. Jacques cried out, dropped to his knees beside her, gathered her up to press her against his chest. Her heart was not beating. He could not feel a pulse or find a thread of life. “No!” He shouted it hoarsely, his voice echoing through the chamber eerily. The voice was lonely and lost, his heart ripped out, like Rand’s.

Jacques?Thevoice was faint and far off but unmistakably Shea’s.

Jacques held his breath for a moment, afraid he had truly lost his mind. “Shea?” He breathed her name, a whisper of silk like the feel of her hair on his body. That light. “Where are you, little love? Come back to me.”

Jacques pressed his forehead to hers, his hand over her heart. He felt the first strong beat in his palm, the first rush of blood through her veins and arteries. He captured her mouth with his to take the first breath from her lungs. His own heart could beat, his own lungs could work. He felt tears on his face and held her close.

“What happened to you out there?” she asked softly, clinging to him.

“The vampire and I fought,” he said into her mass of red hair. He caught a strand on the tip of his tongue, ran it through his mouth, needing the feel of her close to him.

“I know. It was Rand. I felt you hit him. I could feel his hatred. It was terrible, like something alien in my body. When you struck, I could feel his pain. Right away I began to bleed. I knew he would use it against you somehow, so I tried to do what you said all Carpathians could do.” She looked ruefully around her at the smears of blood. “It took a while to figure things out, but eventually I was able to put myself to sleep.”

She took his breath away with her bravery. “Why did you not contact me?”

“I was afraid it would distract you, Jacques. I knew you were in a fight for your life. The last thing you needed to do was worry about me.”

“You are still bleeding,” he pointed out softly, holding her away from him so he could examine her.

“It doesn’t really hurt all that much, now that you’re back and safe,” she assured him.

“I’m sorry it was your father. I know how much having a father, some member of your family, alive would have meant to you.” He bent his head to the angry cut across her left breast. His tongue lapped at the wound gently, the healing properties in his saliva instantly closing the laceration. Her skin, recently so cold and lifeless, was suddenly beginning to heat. Steam rose all around them, enfolding them in its embrace. “My family will have to be your family,” he added softly. “We will make our own family.”

Shea rubbed her face against his chest like a kitten, her mouth wandering up the column of his throat. “We have a strange family, Jacques, every one of them. I guess we’ll have to be the sane ones.”

He loved the laughter in her voice. As sad as she must be at this moment, with the man who was her father responsible for so much death and hatred, she still found it in her to try to make him feel better. His arms tightened protectively. “I suppose we cannot tell them we feel this way.”

“Better not. I think they’re under the mistaken impression that something is a little off with us.” Shea moved her head, swinging the silky hair away from her neck, exposing a long, deep scratch for his attention.

Jacques instantly bent his head to accommodate her. His tongue tasted the sweet spice of life, caressed and teased, moved up her neck to find her ear. His teeth nipped gently. He could feel the responsive shiver run through her. Her skin was soft and warm, bringing life to his own. “And we can create our own family eventually, Shea. Our child.” When he felt her stiffen, he held her closer, his voice a velvet soft whisper. “Not now, Shea, later, when you are strong in our world and sure of yourself, and I am completely healed. Our child. Children. Your dream has become my dream. We can have it, Shea.”

“Don’t, Jacques,” Shea said.

“We can, my love. I am remembering things much faster now. I know as we grow together, I will be able to feel as you feel. I want our child. I want you happy. I want to give you a family. Do not close out the idea from your mind. We have centuries to come to this decision, but know this: I want it, too.”

“When you can promise me you will remain and love and guide our child should something happen to me, then I will gladly agree.”

His teeth touched the side of her neck. “Thanks to you, I have faith in myself. I will someday be able to give you such a promise. I will also tell you, if such a thing should occur, that the child would be my hope on this earth, and when she or he had a family, then I would gladly join you.”

She could feel the tears swimming in her eyes. “Then I am truly happy, Jacques. You could never give me a more beautiful gift than you already have. Even if you never reach that point, I will always love you for wanting to reach it and striving to do so.”

“Your happiness is of great importance to me.”

“You smell different, Jacques.” Shea inhaled his scent sharply, pulled back so she could look into his eyes. “Why do you smell different?”

He laughed softly. “It is not a woman, red hair. Why are you so suspicious? I met another one such as myself in the forest. I was in need, and he offered his aid.”

“And you took it?” She was astonished. Jacques had certainly come a long way from the wary, dark, dangerous man she had first encountered. “He was a total stranger, yet you allowed him to help you?”

“You were a total stranger, and I allowed you to do more than simply aid me,” he teased, his mouth warm against the corner of hers. “In fact, you gave me all sorts of interesting ideas on how you could further aid me.”

“I did not. As I recall, I told you I was your doctor, nothing more, and you would not listen to me. You know, Jacques, that’s a very bad habit of yours, not listening to me.”

His mouth wandered back to her ear, his breath stirring her blood. “I promise to remedy the situation as soon as humanly possible,” he whispered with a sorcerer’s magic.

Shea could feel his breath right down to her toes. Then she saw an ugly slash wound marring his shoulder. She lowered her mouth to heal it and tasted the unique flavor that was Jacques. She felt his involuntary response and deliberately squirmed closer, bringing her body right up against his. She tasted his essence, she tasted the adrenaline, the primitive joy of battle, she tasted his pain. “Humanlypossible, huh?” she mused. “I don’t know if I like the way you put that. It seems to me you’ll be able to get around that one fairly easily.” Shea circled his neck with her arms and pulled his head down to hers. Blindly, unerringly, she found his mouth with hers. She put everything into her kiss, her love, her fear, her acceptance of his ways. Her desire for him, her need of him, all of it rushed from her to him.

Jacques’ arms tightened possessively. His mouth was hungry against hers, needing to feed on her sweetness, her purity, to wipe out the remnants of the lingering demon. Her body was plaint and welcoming, her mouth as hungry as his. He flung his clothes in every direction and moved to gather her even closer. He felt her shift her weight, felt them both teeter, and then they were tumbling into the pool beneath them.

Locked together, they went to the bottom, their mouths clinging to one another, their shared laughter in their minds. He kicked his legs strongly as she wrapped hers around his waist. Their heads broke the surface, sending rings of ripples skipping over the water. She was laughing, catching his face in her hands. “You are so incredibly romantic, Jacques, I can barely catch my breath here.”

His hands moved up to cup her buttocks, to massage suggestively. He raised one eyebrow. “Are you saying this was my fault? Woman, I never lose my balance. I needed to follow you into the water to keep you from embarrassing yourself.”

Her hand found the back of his waist, caressed the intriguing little niche there, and moved to follow the line of his hip. “I think, wild man, you need me very much.” She pressed her body closer to his, found the hot, thick evidence of his desire. “Very, very much.” Shea tightened her legs around his waist and settled herself over his aggressive length, taking the thick weight of him into her.

His breath exploded as velvet fire seemed to enfold him. His teeth found the slim column of her neck, holding her pinned and still for his invasion. There was such beauty in the moment, he felt suspended in time, caught in another dimension. Her hair floated around them like silken sea kelp, and her full breasts pushed into the heavy muscles of his chest. She was soft and plaint, flowing around him like warm honey, yet her muscles were firm and moving convulsively to keep him within her body.

Water splashed up around them with the movement of their bodies, brushed their sensitive skin like fingers, a warm, loving caress. She was his world in that moment, the true meaning of living to him. Colors were dancing around them—not the gray, bleak world he had existed in for so long, but true colors, vivid and real. Feelings were strong, emotions deep, his heart thudding with wonder, his protective instincts and great capacity for love stealing into his soul. In contrast to his world of pain and rage, of utter coldness and despair, this love for her was a miracle. She would never understand what she truly meant to him, not even reading his mind, because the depth of feeling was so great. He had hungered and needed for so long, with no hope, yet now she was in his arms, her body one with his, her heart and mind in tune and rhythm, her soul locked irrevocably with his.

Jacques knew, as his body moved gently and lovingly into hers, as his hips thrust forward and he buried himself ever deeper, that his life was changed forever. He would have a home, a family, children; he would have love and laughter surrounding him all the days he chose to remain on earth. He would have her body, her heart, her purity and goodness to temper his predatory nature. His hell had become a paradise that he had somehow, through all his mistakes, managed to reach.

Because she could read his mind so easily, because he rarely left her completely, Shea could glimpse his feelings. She laid her head on his shoulder, closed her eyes, and allowed the building explosion to overtake her. Her arms tightened around Jacques, around her anchor, her security. Whatever happened in the future, whatever they were forced to face and deal with, they had one another, and that was all anyone could ask.

Jacques lifted them to the heavens, and they soared there together while the water in the pool splashed and receded around them. He framed her face gently with his large hands and looked into her vivid green eyes.

“I love you, Shea. I always will,” he vowed softly. “I love you too, Jacques,” she whispered back.

He found her mouth, the warm sweetness only she could provide, and took it hungrily. They slipped deeper into their embrace, and the water closed over their heads. Laughing, coughing, they broke apart and swam to the surface, the horrors of the day drowned in the depth of their love.

Table of Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

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